


Top or bottom bunk?

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 09, Spoilers, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 13:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides they need a room they can share...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top or bottom bunk?

**Author's Note:**

> I needed an A) Happy porny S9 fic and B) One that doesn't revolve around the whole Samzekiel issue. This is the result.

Dean's amazed, yet again, that their good guy's hide out seems to have an unending supply of rooms for every eventuality.

As he stalks the corridors in search of a space that he and Sam can share as their own, he marvels at the places they've already discovered.

The war room, as he's christened it, is warm and welcoming but not so welcoming that it distracts from the task at hand. Walls lined with shelves full of books on every possible subject ranging from Greek Gods to how to cook the perfect omelette, it fills Dean with a sense of belonging that has been sorely lacking from his life up until now.

There's the computer room, which is completely taken up by what he thinks is the very first computer, sod what the Internet says about the origins of the processing chip. It's cool and calm and filled with the sounds of beeping and ticking as the giant brain that runs the operation upstairs works over all the bits of information it can scramble into it's data stores.

Surprisingly Dean loves that room, it shows him just what the human brain is capable of when it's applied properly. It reminds him of Sam, always thirsting for knowledge, even when his head's so full it could burst.

Dean's room is an awesome sauce filled amusement park packed full of his favourite things from weapons to dvd's and a bed so soft and comfortable that he only has to lay his head on the pillow to feel like he's being hugged, but it isn't quite the same as having Sam's long assed limbs wrapped round him at night, making him sweat so badly he worries he might actually drown.

When Dean suggested they share his room, Sam gave him such a sweet almost infuriated look before shaking his head no and smirking, "It's your space De...you need somewhere to get away from it all, me included. We can always fix up one of the other rooms to share when we don't need time to not kill each other."

On occasion the realisation that he doesn't give his brother enough credit smacks him full force in the face and he's reminded why they make such a good team; because Sammy's always willing to say the thing that Dean needs most, even if he doesn't know it.

Of course there's the dungeon, with it's locked down tighter than a nun's panties devil's traps and chains fit for holding monsters of unspeakable strength. Dean and Sam both love this room, mainly because right now the King of Hell is pouting like a child in the middle of it. Being able to poke his head round the corner and see Crowley sulking like a petulant teenager will never get old.

The library doesn't need explaining, it's Sam's domain and will remain so for however long they live here, even with Kevin picking up a lot of the research slack, it's still his brother's favourite place and he looks like he belongs in amongst the dusty piles of books and boxes filled with god knows what.

But they need somewhere of their own, Sam has a room, it's more of a collection of the weird and wonderful, but it's got a bed and a television and his clothes all folded neatly into a big chest of draws in the corner.

They need something they can keep for themselves, a place no one else is allowed, not Cas or Kevin, not even Charlie if and when she clicks her heels and comes home.

It needs to be somewhere they can hide away and enjoy each other, whether that involves loud acrobatic sex or simply curling into a collective ball and watching the latest episodes of Game of Thrones, not that Dean will admit he actually likes the show. It's too close to their life for him to be able to say out loud how badly he identifies Ned Stark with their own father or that he feels like John Snow, stranded at the wall, facing unspeakable evil out in the cold.

Tapping out 'Shave and a Haircut' along the walls of the corridor, Dean comes upon a door that's blatantly not been opened for a good long while, judging by the cobwebs hanging on the handle and the way it protests loudly when he shoves his shoulder against it.

Inside is pretty much exactly what he was after; a large king size bed in the centre of a low slung ceilinged room with an open fire at one end and a massive flat screen tv at the other. How the fuck...exactly who did these Dudes of Letters have to kill to get their hands on all this technology well before the rest of humanity!

Sam's going to shit a brick when he sees the walls, lined with bookshelves so stacked with portfolios and file folders that Dean has no clue how they're even upright.

There's nothing his brother loves more than an unexplored sets of records. Geek!

Dean can't see too much upkeep that's needed, maybe sweep away a few of the spider's hang outs resting at the corners of the room but apart from that he thinks it's damn near perfect for what he wants.

Taking note of the ridiculously large wardrobe in one corner, he decides to head back downstairs to his and Sam's rooms and gather a few supplies before showing the place off.

~^~

Sam's text message tone sounds and he's rudely dragged from the book about herbology and it's applied sciences in the medical profession that's open on his lap. Scowling at the ignorant piece of technology, he grabs it and thumbs through the options.

Wondering why in the hell Dean is texting him he grins at his brother's childish attitude to the day to day and opens the message,

_Sammy, follow the sound of my voice, got a surprise for you._

Really... Is he _that_ bored?

He taps out a quick reply and listens for Dean's AC/DC text tone, when he catches the muted strains of a screeching voice coming from upstairs, he places a marker in his book and goes on the hunt for his dopey big brother.

_Warmer, keep walking, you're almost there._

Sam finds the base of a second set of stairs he didn't even know existed and listens for the now familiar sound of Highway to Hell to guide him on his quest for a Dean shaped surprise.

He climbs the stairs and peers along the corridor and is rewarded with an open doorway and light pouring out.

As he rounds the doorway, Sam spots Dean, perched on the biggest bed he's ever seen, legs crossed, daft grin on his face.

"You found me!"

Sam chuckles and lets his eyes drift to the edges of the room, "Dean, you look like a rock and roll pixie. What is this place?"

Dean pats the bed next to him and wafts his arms outwards, "This is _our_ room."

Sam grins and shakes his head, "How long have you been stalking the hallways to find this place? It's, actually it's really nice, but when did you get chance to put a flat screen in here!"

Dean scoots sideways and beckons Sam over to the bed before answering, "Dude, I didn't!"

Off of Sam's disbelieving look Dean rushes to clarify, "Honestly man, it was in here when I found the place. God knows how many souls they sold but the guys in charge of this place had some serious sway in their day."

Sam waits for Dean to settle himself against the pillows before slipping between his thighs and leaning his head against his brother's chest, "I'm gonna slide right passed the idea that the Men of Letters might have been up to know good just to get the latest upgrade and just say thanks."

Dean grins and rests his chin on Sam's head, "Really? You like it?"

Sam drags Dean's arms round his shoulders and nods, "Yeah, it's peaceful. I didn't realise you meant it when you said you wanted to share."

Dean sighs and lets Sam's weight pin him in place, "I can't...I've not slept properly since the church, thought we could bunk in together for a bit, see if that helps."

Sam's so used to Dean just invading his space and vice versa that he never realised his brother wasn't actually sleeping in his own room, he just assumed Dean was horny every night he snuck under his covers, "Why didn't you say?"

Dean shakes off the direction his thoughts are taking him and squeezes Sam's shoulders, "Doesn't matter, just needed you near, you know. We've shared a bed and a room for so long and I...anyway, you like it huh?"

Sam lets the change in subject go and grins before turning between Dean's legs and laying his chin on his brother's chest, "Yeah, it's great, we should grab some of our stuff you know. We could..."

Dean grins sheepishly and leans over the edge of the bed to the table that's got his favourite gun on top of it. Pulling open the one draw he tilts his head.

Sam follows Dean's line of sight and a loud bark of laughter escapes his lips as he swats his brother's thigh, "I see you've got the essentials," he digs around in the draw and pulls out a tube of lube, "Seriously man, did we even get any clothes up here?"

Dean nods and smirks as he hooks a set of glinting handcuffs out onto the bed, "Yeah, I split our clothes, half of each are still down stairs, the rest are up here."

Sam levels a searching look on Dean before nodding once and smiling softly, "You know I didn't mean we couldn't share, right? I just meant you should have a bolt hole when it all gets too much."

Sam picks the handcuffs up and swings them in front of Dean's face, "We are not christening the first night in _our_ bed with a BDSM show, forget it."

Dean smirks and makes a grab for the silver metal in Sam's hands before slinging them back in the draw, "Didn't even cross my mind Sammy."

Sam crawls up Dean's body, listening to the change in his breathing and feeling the way his brother automatically shifts to accommodate his weight, "Liar..."

Dean cranes his neck, lets a rare natural smile grace his usually smirking lips and lays them at Sam's temple, "I had something else in mind for our first night in here..."

Dean's husky tone of voice sends a shiver down Sam's spine and he shudders against the body laid beneath him, "Yeah, and what would that be?"

Dean doesn't answer, just grips Sam's hips with his knees and rolls them so he's above his brother, staring into the bright green of his always searching eyes.

Leaning back, resting on his haunches, Dean begins to unbutton Sam's over shirt, exposing the thin material of the almost see-though v-neck t-shirt underneath.

He'll never forget the first time his brother wore a white v-neck, it's burned into his mind like so many of his Sam-related memories.

They'd been back on the road together for about a month and they hadn't yet started back up with whatever it was they thought they were doing before the youngest Winchester had gone away to college.

Dean thinks their screwed up relationship was partly to blame for Sam running as far and as fast as he could, but he still won't ask, doesn't want to know the answer.

He'd been having real issues not jumping his younger brother from the off, but knowing he was still grieving he'd kept his hands and ideas to himself, until Sam had stripped off his jacket to reveal the crisp white v-neck below it and that, as they say, had been that. 

The material had sculpted itself to Sam's already impressive frame, stretching thin and tight across steadily developing muscles, making Dean's mouth water and his eyes sting with the effort not to just rip it from his brother's body.

He can still hear Sam telling him to stop being a fucking pussy and kiss him already. 

Now, every time he sees Sam in a v-neck his cock is instantly hard and aching, no matter where they are or who they're talking to. He's had to excuse himself from the room more than once to try and get a handle on his rising libido.

It's no different now, with Sam staring up at him like he's the sun on a winter's day and his cock swells in his jeans, restricting the blood flow and making his fingers fumble over the last few buttons.

Sam's always known Dean's little kink for him in a v-neck and if he's really after something he wants, he'll go all out and parade around in nothing but a pair of boxers and a white v-neck. Never fails to get him his own way.

Watching Dean practically foaming at the mouth never gets old and he won't ever stop wearing them, not when it gets such a fantastic reaction.

Sam reaches up and makes quick work of Dean's top half, divesting him of his millions of layers. He'll never understand why his brother insists on wearing so many clothes, even on scorching hot days. Nothing like making a guy sing for his supper is there?

They both try to pull off each other's t-shirt at the same time, getting tangled in each other's clothes. Finally managing to untwist themselves, Sam falls back against the bed, laughing and shaking his head, "Smooth De...Real smooth."

Dean grins and lunges for Sam's zipper, yanking his jeans down his hips to reveal the already pre-come slicked head of his impressive cock peeking above the waist band of his boxers.

Dean licks his lips and removes his own trousers, never braking eye contact with the thick sticky liquid gathering in his brother's belly button.

Sam will never get used to the way Dean watches him; eyes roaming every inch, as if he is a master piece to be admired.

It used to make him uncomfortable before he recognised it for what it was; his brother showing him the love he cannot voice for fear of rejection.

Dean is naked and looming above Sam, cock thick and dripping, pressed into the curve of his brother's hip.

Sam squirms against Dean, eliciting a hiss and a narrowing of his brother's eyes, "You gonna stare at me all night or you gonna play with your toys. You know what they say, 'If you don't use it you'll lose it'."

Dean growls deep in his throat and hooks a hand beneath Sam's knee. Shunting himself into an almost impossible position, he settles between the younger man's legs before reaching out and grasping the cock twitching against the chiseled torso in front of him.

Pumping his fist twice, Dean let's Sam's cock 'snap' back onto his belly and chuckles at his brother's own growl of annoyance. 

Snatching the lube from the bed, he squeezes some into his palm and coats both hands, "Lift your ass."

Sam raises an eyebrow but does as he's told and waits. He watches Dean slide a knee beneath him, resting it far enough up that he's got a clear view of his brother's tight muscles. The younger man jumps when two lube slicked fingers begin to massage the edges of his hole, working him loose, readying him for Dean's twitching weeping cock, "Fuck, that's it, right there."

Dean listens to the hitch in Sam's breathing and feels him shift down, trying to gain more contact from his probing fingers, "Touch yourself Sammy."

The groan Sam lets loose is full of unrepentant want as he grips his own cock and begins to pump his fist viciously. He feels Dean's fingers encircling his wrists, forcing him to slow his pace.

"Not so fast, want to see you bring yourself off."

Sam loves it when Dean decides he really _wants_ something. Despite his outward projection of macho bravery and strength, he is a surprisingly tentative lover. He usually waits on his little brother for those tiny indications and signs before taking what he needs.

When he actually takes charge, it's beyond hot and Sam thinks Dean could ask anything of him and he'd be willing to give it.

Slowing his movements, Sam locks eyes with Dean and smiles, a predatory grin that he knows will shoot straight to his brother's cock, "Yes Dean..."

Dean groans and continues to work Sam's ass, sliding first one finger inside before forcing another in and crooking them, angling his wrist so he can see his knuckles disappearing at the same time as he can feel his fingers being squeezed.

Sam loosens his grip, rings his finger and thumb just below the head of his cock and quickly flicks his wrist. Unable to fight the need for friction much longer, he chews on the inside of his cheek, groans low and throaty and throws his head against the pillows, "Dean, please..."

Dean feels Sam's muscles gripping his fingers as he slides them in and out of his brother's shivering body and can't help the appreciative groan that forces it's way up his throat. 

There is nothing more stunning than Sam spread wide and wanting, bringing himself to the edge, Dean's fingers buried deep in his ass, tips brushing against the sensitive bunch of nerves that can have his toes curling into the sheets, "What do you want?"

Sam doesn't open his eyes, doesn't stop the furious strokes that are causing his heart to pump blood round his veins so quickly he thinks he may spin out if Dean doesn't slide inside him right now, "You, inside me!"

Dean chuckles and pulls his hand away from Sam's ass, revelling in the tiny whimpers of protest at the loss of contact.

Shifting onto his knees, Dean moulds himself to Sam's chest, trapping the hand still wrapped round his brother's aching cock between them.

Gripping Sam's thigh in one hand whilst guiding the tip of his cock between his cheeks with the other Dean sheaths himself in slick grasping warmth.

He lets his head fall forward onto Sam's shoulder before setting a tempo that has his brother writhing and panting beneath him. 

Sam feels Dean's cock shoving passed his loosened muscles and arches off the bed, causing his own shaft to rub deliciously against his brother's stomach.

Sam isn't a quiet fuck, has never been a quiet fuck. It used to be a nightmare trying to keep him quiet whilst they were screwing in a bed five feet from their father's sleeping form.

Dean used to threaten all sorts to shut Sam up, even going so far as to warn him he'd lose the opportunity to have his ass pounded completely if he didn't quiet the hell down. 

Eventually they figured out that a well placed hand over the mouth not only muffled Sam's cries but turned him into a panting nymphomaniac who could snap at the drop of a hat.

Dean listens to Sam's moans and slips a hand over his mouth, leaning down and whispering into his ear, letting his breath ghost tantalisingly across his brother's skin, "Sammy, remember the first time we did this...me...Jesus fuck...me with my cock so far up your ass you could taste it, your legs spread, knees so tight against my ribs I thought you were going to crack something!"

Sam's body is an instrument, strings pulled taut, ready for Dean to play. His brother's hand over his mouth coupled with the memories of their first forbidden touches is enough to lift his heart beat into his ears.

With the sound of his own blood thrumming along his veins, Sam bites down on Dean's palm and cries out, spilling hot sticky come between them.

The feeling of Sam's warm release spreading across his stomach shunts Dean off the edge.

Letting go of Sam's mouth, Dean grabs hold of the headboard and pumps his hips violently, slamming into him hard enough to make the bed creak and groan under their combined weight. His cock jumps and pulses inside his brother, filling him, so much so that he can feel his own release trickling back down his shaft.

They lay like that, Sam's chest rising and falling beneath Dean's ear, long enough to try and find some foot hold in reality.

Sam's the first one to start shifting about. As much as he enjoys Dean's weight, it's beginning to make his hand go numb, "Oi, shift over would you."

Dean lifts his head and stares blearily at his brother, "Ever the romantic Sammy," before rolling onto his side, bringing Sam's body with him.

Sam smirks lazily and curls himself beneath Dean's chin, "I learnt my moves from you, so if I'm an oaf, it's your fault."

Dean makes a grab for the cover and wraps them up as best he can before letting sleep claim him. He's vaguely aware of Sam sighing and dropping a gentle kiss on his chest before he drifts away for a hopefully decent undisturbed sleep.


End file.
